Before Quentisburry was even visible in the fog, Fatty and Davy began
a race for the city gate "Come on, Bastian" Fatty
shouted excitedly, "Beat us to the East Gate and I'll buy you a jug of beer
tonight!"

The Bastian, the older one of the Midsummer Night Princes, accepted
the challenge and spurred his horse. He was curious. He had never been to a
town before and the two stable-boys had portrayed Quentisburry as the New
Jerusalem.

Davy had praised the town for half of the preceding night. "I tell you
Bastian, Quentisburry is a big city, with a great castle, the duke's castle, on
north side of a hill."

"Don't forget, Davy," Fatty broke in, "Unwelcome visitors can't get
into the city! It's protected on the east, south and west side by the rapid
river, almost like a castle is protected by a moat."

"You can't enter the city from the mountains in the north either, because
our Duke's castle has barred the entry with fierce fortifications.

"You can only enter the city through the eastern and the western gates
situated the city wall, or the gate-house in the Castle to the north."..."All
gates are guarded day and night!"

And Davy and Fatty raved on and on, till Berrit hushed them. They
raved proudly about the many houses: "There are hundreds of them, often with
two or three stories!"..."Thousands of people live in the city and there are
monks and nuns and even a bishop!"..."Don't forget the taverns and pubs with
music and food, and the weekly markets and a fair in spring and fall."

The three crossed the last half mile on horseback with their wide
cloaks flying in the wind.

At the eastern city-gate, they had to stop short: "The password,"
demanded the guard commander, recognizing Fatty and Davy despite their filthy
appearance, as members of the Brave Boy Bandits.

"Don't you recall us, Captain Conrad? We are members of the Brave Boy
Bandits!"

"Sure I do, but who's that keen-looking lad, armed to the teeth? We
don't want troublemakers in the city" referring to Bastian.

"That's Bastian! He is a friend of Count Berrit! The count is just a
step behind! We are his advance guard. Please let us pass!"

The guard commander breathed a deep sigh of relief, because just then
the young count emerged from the fog. Happily, he signalled the ringer and the
bell of the city gate began heralding Count Berrit's home-coming.

*.*.*

Ruwen had tried to entice Berrit into racing to the city too, but to
no avail. Berrit was looking low-spirited. "Race, Ruwen, if you like; I will be
home soon enough and get a working-over by my father."

"You don't believe that yourself, Berrit!"

"Don't forget, I did not live up to his expectations!...Remember, I
didn't vandalize your village!...Remember, I made you my friend and not my
captive and serf!...And last, but not least, I left the Gray Raiders and went to
Niwenburg to get Anzo!...That is not what he had in mind when he appointed me
Captain of the Gray Raiders!"

"Your father is surely not so stupid as to forget about your education
in the monastery. He has to respect your conviction, which interdicts raids,
rapes and murders!"

"Even if he respects my convictions, he never will accept my love for
Anzo! He wants a strong follower, a perfect heir and a lot of grandchildren!"
He added hopelessly, "I am sure he knows about my love for Anzo already! Sure
as hell, the Abbot has spread the news and painted me a devil."

Just then, the bells of the town began to announce their coming. The
alarm bell started to chime first, then the bell of a chapel answered, the big
bell of the main church joined in and finally the bell of the castle church
heralded the return of the young duke.

Ruwen cheered up Berrit by saying, teasingly, "Listen, the bells are
announcing the return of the lost son!...Let's stay
together, you, Bastian and I, to face your father! You have to fight for your
convictions and your love...Remember, I have to give
your father a good working-over, because he is the one who ordered the Gray
Raiders to vandalize our villages!"

The mighty keep of the castle was flying the flag with the silver hawk
in the golden shield. On
the drawbridge of the castle, as well as in the outer ward of the castle,
knights, soldiers and guards were awaiting the home-coming of the Prince and
his escort. Servants and clerks in the inner ward welcomed the group with
cheers, and Berrit's parents were standing at the entrance of the great hall.

They smiled and looked relieved. "Welcome home, son!" His father greeted
Berrit, then his mother embraced her son lovingly and
dragged him into the hall, "We were waiting for you so anxiously! Oh, I am
happy; I am glad you are back safely!"

"Why did you desert the Gray Raiders to ride to Niwenburg? Why did you
decline Jesper's offer for an escort and why did you leave with your captive
and only two weak stable-boys?...Where is that captive,
anyway?" his father inquired with a frown.

"He is not my captive. We have been friends since the moment we met! Look,
father," pointing at Ruwen and Bastian, "I have not only one, but two friends
now." Still pointing at Ruwen and Bastian, "These are the Midsummer Night
Princes! You must have heard of the wonder at the Big Wheel. We are friends and
not enemies!...And father, look at the other two boys!
These are Fatty and Davy, not just weak stable-boys; they are members of the
Brave Boy Bandits, and our brave escort!"

Berrit's parents looked curiously at the two young men wearing clothes
that made them look like poor farmers. Initially they met them with stern looks
of refusal, but almost immediately the enthusiasm of their youngest son took
over, and the Duke and his wife bowed, "Welcome to our house, Midsummer Night Princes!
Berrit's house is yours also!"

Ushering her son and his friends into the big hall, Berrit's mother
beamed. "You are looking great, my son! You have become a real man by taking
part at the campaign! You are not the pale novice spending his time in prayers.
Now you look like a young Duke, and you are the future ruler of this country.
You already have the world at your feet! Every young lady will die for a kiss
from you!"

"Hey, Milady, don't make your son a god! He is still green!" the Duke laughed, and then turning to Berrit "Your mother has already
decided to introduce you to the world of courtly love. She has invited the
prettiest young ladies from all around for the biggest welcome feast ever
seen."

"Yes, my dear,"
she announced proudly, "the most beautiful ladies will compete for your
attention and you have the choice of any! Every maiden will offer her heart to
you and more!" And Berrit's mother began to hum her favourite love song:

Dû bist mîn ich bin dîn.

des soltdûgewissîn.

dû bist beslozzen

in mînem herzen.

verlorn ist das
sluzzelîn.

dûmuostimmêrdarinnesîn!

You are mine, I am
yours

Of that you may be
sure

Deep within my heart

You're safely locked
away

But I have lost the
key

And there you'll
forever stay

Berrit turned and looked out of the window, teardrops trickling out of
the corners of his eyes. "Mother, thanks, but I have already made my choice!"

But she didn't pay any attention to his words and continued, "It will
be a great feast! You will enjoy it! I am sure you will meet the love of your
life!"

"Mother and father, first I have to find Anzo, my dear lo..." He paused
in confusion. Beginning the sentence again, he continued nervously, using an
innocuous word, "I have to find Anzo, my dearest friend, from the monastery!"

"Anzo? Anzo from Veldegg?...I heard he got into
trouble in Niwenburg, and was kicked out of the monastery because he was a
disgrace to the monks. The rumour has it, he is back in Veldegg and his uncle
is keeping him a prisoner!"

Later, when Ruwen and Bastian had left for their room, the Duke took
Berrit into his arms, "I noticed your tears, when you told us about Anzo."
Then, speaking in a very low voice, he whispered, "I have to entrust you with a
secret, my son. When I was your age, I had a dearest friend too...I will help you
rescue Anzo!"

Edging his way through dark hallways and steep staircases on his way
to the south wing of the castle, Berrit recalled his father's words. His father
had let him in on a secret, a secret his father had not even revealed to his
wife. Did he have a dearest love in his youth? Did he have boyfriend, just like
he himself did?

Climbing up the stairs to his room in the tower with unseeing eyes
because of the dark, he was alarmed by a shuffling noise and the slamming of a
door. He tried to pierce the darkness by opening his eyes wide, but it was in
vain; the staircase was pitch-dark! Had someone just left his room? He hurried
to his room, the hexagonal room he had shared with his brothers as a boy. The
door was slightly ajar. Somebody had been in the room; because he had left it
bolted that afternoon. Berrit opened the door wide to allow the moonlight
shining through the windows to light up the staircase. Too late! No trace of
the mysterious visitor to his room could be seen. Then he sensed the scuffing
of steps on the staircase to the attic, followed by a creaking noise. The
mysterious visitor had made an escape to the attic. Berrit took the stairs up
to the attic at a run, opened the door, but he wasn't able to pierce the
darkness of the room. He shuddered in the cold breeze blowing through the attic
door.

Berrit bolted the attic door and descended to his room, to check on
his friends through the connecting door to the neighbouring room. Both were in
there, Bastian cuddling with Ruwen. He was relieved. Lighting up his own room
with a candle, he searched it carefully for trace of the intruder, but there
weren't any.

*.*.*

Ruwen woke out of the best dream he had had in years. He was snuggled
tight with Bastian, in a pile of sweet smelling hay, next to the river; the
mild air was calm and the sunlight was filtered by white clouds.

He opened his eyes. Yes, Bastian was there, snoring slightly. He was
curled beside him, his mouth slightly open, breathing peacefully. But they were
not in the hay at all. His blood brother and he were resting on the soft
mattress of a four-poster-bed. The light from the late morning sun was filtered
by the white curtains, keeping out the cold morning air of a late fall day.

Now Ruwen remembered. Only about a week before he had woken up in his
own bed in the village, spooning with Berrit, the Gray Raider's captain. Was it
six days ago or seven? Then they had become friends, by instinct, not on
purpose. He had left the village with the young duke; and Bastian, his other
half, had followed, drawn to him like iron to a magnetic stone.

Ruwen was happy; he was glad! He wanted to jump up and down for joy.
And then yesterday, the Duke of Quentisburry had accepted the Midsummer Night
Princes as peers and friends of his son. They had had a big welcome diner with
uncounted courses. And then the Duke had agreed with Berrit's decision to
remove the abbot from his office, because of mistreatment and neglect of the
novices. He hadn't even asked for details. And Berrit was happy too, because he
was not forced to confess his love to Anzo. He had only told his parents he had
to search for his best friend, Anzo, the Count of Veldegg, known to the Church
as the novice, Timotheus.

Ruwen kissed Bastian on the cheek. He didn't wake up. He kissed his
nose, but Bastian snored on. Finally he smothered Bastian's face with kisses,
but his big bro didn't open his eyes. Suddenly Ruwen felt a draft of fresh air
on his neck and Berrit asked with snickering voice, "Has Bastian died of
exhaustion? I couldn't sleep for half of the night because some bad boys were
moaning and groaning like wild bears."

"You made that up! We fell asleep long before you got to your room."

"Admit it!" Bastian teased, "You couldn't sleep out of jealousy! I'll
bet you're jealous because Anzo was not in your arms, but Ruwen was in mine!"

Berrit nudged both playfully, and then asked, "Did you hear any noises
from my room when you came in here yesterday?"

"No, when we arrived everything was totally quiet, and also later on.
There wasn't the faintest sound to disturb our rest."

Ruwen was still not hungry, but Bastian was, despite the amount of
food he had devoured the night before. Bastian dragged his little bro down to
the kitchen. Looking for a table in the huge and smoky room, they were turned
away politely by the chief cook; "Princes are entertained to meals in the hall,
not in the kitchen! Jaco, you no-good bastard, show the masters the way!"

Jaco, a boy of about ten, in the attire of a cook, looked up at Ruwen,
"Are you really a prince? Since yesterday, everyone has been talking about you
and your friend!" Eyeing both friends up and down and then wrinkling his nose,
Jaco remarked, straight forward, "But you do not look like our King's sons! I
saw them last year. You look like farm hands, both of you, and you smell like
farm hands!...Are you really the Midsummer Night
Princes?"

He shouldn't have said this, because this cheeky remark earned him a
hard slap from his master.

At the table the TIB's told Berrit's mother about Jaco's question.
"The boy is right!" she laughed, "We have to make you to look and smell like
princes! First you'll need your own pages to show you around, then a long, long
bath and then noble clothes."

"But we do not need servants; none of us do!" Ruwen objected, "I am
just a healer who wants to become a famous medic, and Bastian's a farmer's son,
who wants to see the whole world. He is not a noble prince!"

"You need a page as long as you stay in Quentisburry." Berrit assisted
his mother, "And I know two boys fit for this job. Ruwen, you take Davy, and
Bastian, you take Fatty. I'll take Jaco for the moment. He seems to be clever
and straight forward, and therefore apt for this duty!"

*.*.*

Davy and Fatty were excited to be the guides for Ruwen and Bastian.
"Look here, did I tell you stories about the city? That's the tower of High
Church! Look at its big bells! The tower is so high, it nearly scrapes the
clouds." Davy fibbed.

"Yes, but let us first guide you the tailors and shoemakers lane."
Fatty interrupted. "Duke Berrit will be there soon and then we'll all go to the
bath-house at the southern gate. On the way we can visit the church for a
prayer."

The four checked out all tailor shops. Bastian was used to clothes
sewn by his mother and sisters, as was Ruwen. They checked all the displays.
They were surprised by the different kinds of fashions presented for men and
finally Bastian decided to choose a plain sturdy one being displayed. "We need
some sturdy stuff Ruwen, not these fancy suits."

Just when they were about to enter the dimly lighted small shop,
Berrit showed up. "Not this shop; we need to dress you up for a big welcome
dance, with a lot of fair and noble maidens!...Look over
there, this shop is the one of choice," he remarked, amused. "This tailor does
the most fancy outfits all around; the outfits for
nobles, and you are princes, my dears."

The splendour of the work impressed Bastian deeply. He eyed the items
on display in disbelief. The shelves in the brightly lit room bristled with
rolls of fabric of all kind; of hemp and of wool, of velvet and of silk. The
clothing materials were sparkling in all colours; in yellow and blue, in green
and red, in pink and purple! The tables were overflowing with lace and
translucent fabrics. On cloth-stands, outfits in fancy styles were on display;
wide blouses, tight stockings, spacious coats!

Bastian recovered from the initial shock in no time at all "Hey Ruwen,
I've already made my choice. I want a sleeveless dark blue jacket, a light blue
tight fitting tunic with light grey briefs, grgy stockings
and a dark blue surcoat. To complete my outfit I`ll get black boots with
heels."

"Oh, that fits perfectly to your blond hair and your blue eyes. You
will look like a dandy and break the heart of every maiden! But, don't forget a
soft undershirt. Get this yellow one with a pointed collar."

"And you, Ruwen, look at that jacket and tunic, both in purple. They
will fit you perfectly. This colour will break everyone's hearts, not only
those of the girls! You should complete your outfit with dark green briefs and
stockings and a silver surcoat."

Berrit grinned, "These outfit will make you the perfect target for all
the mothers looking for a great husband for their little daughters."

"Hey, hey Berrit, you're the one who has to defend his virginity from
not only girls." Ruwen rebuked, "but you also have to
look out for noblemen and horny clergymen."

"Don't worry about it. I've even learned to defend my virginity
against robbers!" Berrit repaid, "But both of you will have to buy seven league
boots to make a safe escape as well!"

Meanwhile the tailor, an elderly and very dressed up gentleman, had
begun to take the measurements for the clothing. He was quickly through with
Ruwen. When he came to Bastian, he did his job more than painstakingly. Taking
every size of every body part two or three times, always praising the young
man's physique, "Just perfect! Just perfect, like a young god, like Adonis!"
Finally the tailor knelt down in front of Bastian and began to devote his time
to measuring Bastian's leg-length. Every time he repeated this, his big pointed
nose came closer to Bastian's crotch. Bastian blushed and became more and more
embarrassed.

When the tailor had finally buried his nose up to its root between
Bastian's legs, Berrit tapped the man on the shoulder, "Don't suffocate,
tailor, he hasn't washed that part of his body for more than a month!"

The tailor blushed deeply, and began to apologize to his three
customers. The young Duke grinned, turned to Bastian, "Poor boy, don't blush. I
should have warned you before; good tailors like big boys like you!"

Ruwen eased the tension by scratching his head and announcing loudly,
"Oh, before I forget, we also have to get boots. You have to take black ones
Bastian and I have to get purple ones!...Oh, good lord,
I nearly overlooked an important fact, we need a coat of arms, a crest!"

"Have you ever met a simple farmer sporting a crest on his coat? You
are crazy, Ruwen! Don't overdo it!"

"My father had one! And, don't forget, we are the Midsummer Night
Princes! We are entitled to have one! Everyone will expect us to have a crest!"
Deep in thought for a while, Ruwen decided, "We'll take the tree of life, the
tree of the norns, our mother's tree, the Yggdrasil. Let it be on a golden
shield with its roots reaching down to the center of the earth.

While the three made their choices of clothing, Davy, Fatty and Jaco had
strolled through the small alleyways and rat runs of Quentisburry. They enjoyed
their new freedom and the pennies Berrit had given them for spending. First
they stopped at a bakery to taste sweets, and then they bought raisins at a
market stall and lemonade at a tavern.

Davy was beside himself with of joy! "Oh gosh, these cakes are sweet
as honey! I've never had raisins; where do they grow raisins? Let's go there
and live in this paradise!"

*.*.*

Waiting in front of the bathhouse, the three pages in their uniforms
attracted the curiosity of the owner. "Whose pages are you? I can't remember
having ever seen you before! Who is your lord?"

"Take attention landlord and prepare your house well. We are the pages
of Duke Berrit and the Midsummer Night Princes, Ruwen and Bastian! They will
arrive soon and expect the best treatment!"

This establishment was the most elegant bathhouse in Quentisburry. It
was comprised of separate bathing facilities for the common people, the wealthy
citizens, and the nobles. The draughty room on the ground floor contained the
ovens used for preparing the hot water and a row of very simple bathtubs were
sunken partly into the ground. On weekends this facility was bubbling over with
common citizens and their families, with the apprentices, fellows and
journeymen within the guilds, and with visitors from out of town. At the big
tables of raw wood the visitors could enjoy the food and beer brought along
from home or bought at the nearby shops.

The more elegant rooms on the first floor, one story up, were intended
for wealthy people and their families, like full guild members, for example cloth
makers, tailors, shoe makers, gold and silver smiths, candle makers, bakers,
butchers, carpenters. Also the clerks of the Duke and many merchants were
regular guests here, and enjoyed the services of the staff of servants and
maids. Food could be ordered brought from taverns nearby and the feasting often
lasted till the night watch called the midnight hour.

The third section was installed in a spacious room on the second
floor. Through the arcades of this hall, the city life taking place on the
square in front of the bathhouse could be observed. The floor of the room was
paved with glazed tiles in blue and yellow, its walls were adorned with
paintings of young maiden and fauns hiding behind blooming bushes. The front
half of the room accommodated five spacious bath-tubs and small tables with
white cloth. The back half of the room was curtained off by deep blue drapes
ornamented with golden fleur-de-lis embroidery. Behind the drapes were
bedsteads with soft duvets, awaited customers who wanted to enjoy love with
their lady, or fancy women.

Berrit, Bastian and Ruwen arrived at the bathhouse on horseback. The
owner welcomed the young Duke and his two companions excitedly. Bowing and
scraping, he guided his noble guests in the room for the nobility. The pages
had to be content with the comforts of the second section.

"Welcome, his Highness, Duke Berrit; welcome, my dear Princes! It's an
honour for my establishment and a distinction I would never have expected
during my life!...It's still early evening; can I offer you a refreshment?"
turning to an old hag cleaning the entrance, the bath-owner commanded, "Get the
best wine from my cellar, the one I bought in Italy and keep for special
guests." Looking around, he announced with a resounding voice, "Maidens, my
gorgeous maidens, our noble guests have arrived! Dress like angels, in your
transparent tunics!" Turning back to the three again, "My house is your house;
make yourself comfortable. The beds in the back are the most wonderful places
to spend the night. My maidens will spoil you the whole night!"

It was late afternoon and the three young men were the first visitors.
The owner himself offered sweet wine as a welcome. Before the three visitors
could become too comfortable, six young maidens in nearly translucent tunics showed
up and began to undress the surprised visitors. While Ruwen and Berrit were
pleased to accepted the undressing by the giggling
maidens, Bastian got nervous and tried to fend off the girls; but in vain since
they tickled and caressed him till he gave in. He nearly fainted when they
removed his briefs, but his little soldier liked this treatment a lot, and went
stalwart. This embarrassed him even more, and his face turned red like the
reddest apple of the year, and he covered his crotch with his hands.

Berrit began to laugh out loud, pointing at his and Ruwen's hard wood
and then to the girls, "They are easy girls and have tasted more then one love
stick. What do you think the beds are for in the back?"

"Let's jump into the bathtubs; quick, chums! Maybe the water will
extinguish our little problem!" Ruwen laughed, because he also felt quite
uncomfortable being naked in the midst of maidens.

The hot water in the bathtubs smelled of sweet roses and the maidens
did a good job rubbing the dirt of the last few weeks off the young men's
bodies. While they bathed the three young men like little children, the
maidens' shirts became wet and adhered to their nearly naked bodies. Bastian
and Ruwen alternated between blank looks of amazement and blushes. Even Berrit,
playing the sophisticate, turned red as the maidens rubbed their cuspidate
bosoms against his back

*.*.*

The news of the visit of the young Duke and his friends to the
bathhouse spread like wildfire through Quentisburry. The cleansing was not even
finished when the first curious nobles arrived, the family of an impoverished
Count. The Count had brought along his overbearing, red haired wife, his two
teenaged daughters, both lovely looking but still a little shy, as well as a
sweet little girl of about five and boy about two years older.

The woman wasn't restrained at all; displaying her waning beauty, she
urged her reluctant daughters, "Don't be shy, this is your chance!" And with
this she ushered her naked daughters to the bath-tub next to the three young
men.

Berrit, reading the woman's importunate face, turned his back to the
family, while Ruwen couldn't help smiling at the cute little girl.

The little girl came over, eyed the three young men and asked Ruwen,
"Are you really princes? Will you be kings later?"

Ruwen smiled, "Sure! But who told you that?"

"My sisters, they would like to marry you. Abby wants to marry the
big, blond one and Betty the brown haired. But I want to marry you! I am
Cindy!"

So far the boy, picking his nose with the left and fondling his
peeking pecker with his right, was hiding behind his little sister. Now he
addressed Ruwen, "Don't listen to this nosy pest," and then to his sister,
"They are princes and they surely want to go to join the war. They do not need
soft-hearted women to marry!" and turning to Ruwen, "I am strong. Would you
like me to be your page, and follow you into the war?"

Berrit began to laugh, "I guessed it would be fun here, but I didn't
expect we would end up as bargains in a wedding market!"

The little girl was getting cold, because she didn't wear a single
piece of garment. With chattering teeth she asked, "Can I hop into your tub too:; I am freezing."

Bastian grinned at her and helped her get in. "I always liked to bath
in the same tub with my little sister; come right in here!"

The boy didn't even ask; he climbed into the tub, huddled up against
Ruwen and begged, "Can I become your squire, dear Sir?" and then kissed him.

The room filled quickly with nobles. Some came just out of curiosity;
others hoped to get some benefit. Bastian, Berrit and Ruwen enjoyed the
evening.

*.*.*

Four days later, the big welcome was staged by the Duke. Berrit
simmered with excitement, because the fete was celebrated in his honour and
that of his new friends, the princes.

His mother had insisted on inviting all the young and nobles ladies
from near and far. She spoke seriously to her husband, the Duke, "You have
barricaded Berrit up in the monastery for nearly ten years; now you have to
give him the chance to meet the most handsome girls around. You know I want him
married soon, and want grandchildren!"

The Duke just laughed and shook his head, "Times change and I think he
has learned a lot while in the monastery!"

The great hall was decorated with greenery and the last flowers of the
year. The tables arranged along the walls were overflowing with roasted veal,
pork and all kinds of game, and servants waited to fill empty goblets with sweet
wine.

Berrit sat on his father's right side, at the most noble table, on the
small side of the hall. Ruwen and Bastian were placed beside Berrit's mother to
the left of the Duke.

The tables for the invited nobles and senior clergymen were arranged
on each of the long sides of the hall. The young ladies, accompanied by their
mothers or guardians, were seated on the left side of the hall, while the
knights, squires and lesser clergymen had to take the tables on the right.

"Dear ladies, noble gentlemen lets raise our beakers in honour of my
youngest son, Berrit!" the Duke opened the feast. "He has returned successfully
from his first campaign. He has not only done great damage to our adversary,
the Prince Bishop of Trescrossing, but Berrit has also won new and famous
friends." And turning to his left he raised his glass a second time, "Now look
hither! Let me present to you, the famous Midsummer Night Princes, my son's
dear friends, Ruwen and Bastian."

The audience gazed in surprise to the two young men, who now looked
like natural princes, dressed up in their new garments, which were adorned with
the Yggdrasil.

Berrit rose and bowed to the audience, "Nobles and fair ladies please
raise your glasses in honour of my loving parents and give cheers to my new friends."

Everyone cheered and the band in the gallery above the entrance
commenced the festivities with sweet tunes.

After the seventh or eighth course of the feast, the music changed
from festive tunes to dancing melodies. Berrit, taking the hand of his mother,
opened the hovetantz, whereupon everyone joined in.

The young duke had just learned the round dance and the estampie the
day before, and was still shy. However, he managed the first dance with grace
and many a young lady darted glances at the future duke hoping for a dance, and
even more. Berrit was relaxed and slightly tipsy from the sweet wine and didn't
mind dragging one young lady after the other onto the dance floor. During the
dance he actually forgot his craving for Anzo. Spotting Ruwen on the dance
floor, wheeling a young girl, he suddenly remembered his love; and inquired
during an intermission, "Have you forgotten your love, Ruwen? Are you now
looking for a girl for the night?"

"Of course not! Look at Bastian! Isn't he dancing like mad? He enjoys
dancing as much as I do. We are not being unfaithful to each other; we just
enjoy life! He doesn't miss me right now, because he knows our most wonderful
dance will be later, in our bed!...And you can bet on
that!"

"Accepted! I'll come later, and check!"

*.*.*

AUTHOR NOTE

I would like
to express my special thanks to B. for doing a wonderful job by correcting all
the wrong expressions and the punctuation used by a non native English writer.

Comments,
reviews, questions and complaints are welcomed. Please send them to Ruwen Rouhs.
And I would like to add, thanks for reading.

The author copyrights this
story and retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in any form --
physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise -- without the author's expressed
permission. All applicable copyright laws apply.